


Static

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 09:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4700597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a pretty easy way of telling how hurt Grif or Simmons is if they call in on a patrol. </p><p>If they ask for anyone besides each other, they’re fine.</p><p>If they ask for Grif or Simmons respectively, they’re badly hurt but not dire at the moment.</p><p>If they ask for Dexter and Dick respectively, someone is dying.</p><p>Jensen is unfortunate enough to receive the last kind of call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Static

Captain Grif almost never used the radio.

Jensen knew this. She lived it. Through the civil war and beyond, Captain Grif had avoided the radio like the plague, loathe to broadcast to the troops unless he absolutely had to. It had perplexed her at first, Captain Grif didn’t seem like the type to refuse to ask for help, but one day her own captain cleared it up.

“Grif?” Simmons had snorted. “Oh, he just doesn’t want to go to the work of being commanding. He fucking hates giving orders.”

After serving under Simmons for so long, she believed every word. There were things her captain didn’t know shit about (sports, cars, girls) and then there was Dexter Grif.

So when Captain Grif called over the radio to say nothing but “We’re under attack” Jensen knew it was serious.

Ever since Hargrove, the planet had been entirely on clean up mode, dealing with the excess pirates who still inhabited the hills of Chorus. Given the gunfire over the line, she figured that was what Captain Grif’s squad ran into. She prepared herself to head to the control room, she helped deploy squads during these situations, when her private channel flared to life.

“Jensen?” Captain Grif sounded dead tired. Almost worn. Jensen’s nerves were on edge at once. Grif had never called her personal channel. Not once.

“Yes sir?” Her lisp still came out when she was under pressure. Grif took a heavy breath over the line.

“Get Dick for me. He’s not answering his radio.”

Jensen froze. It took her two seconds to connect the name Dick with her own Captain. It took her another two seconds to comprehend what hearing his first name meant.

Jensen took off at once, sprinting towards Captain Simmons usual location in the engineering room. She reached up for her com and sent out a quick message to Dr. Grey.

“Emily,” she said, getting rid of the title. Hopefully they were good enough friends for the Doctor to let it slide over a public line. “You’re going to need to get into our next transport to Captain Grif. He’s hurt. Bad.”

Her com flared to life as she turned another corner. She could see engineering down the hall. “How bad? Are there missing limbs? Burns? Am I going to need to bring cyborg parts?”

“Don’t know. All I know is that he just called Captain Simmons’ by his first name.”

There was a beat of silence over the line. 

“Affirmative.” And God, Jensen hadn’t heard Dr. Grey sound that alarmed since the war. Jensen threw open the door to engineering, it was a miracle her asthma hadn’t flared up by now, and took in her Captain. He was sitting on a chair, fiddling away at a loose screw on his leg. His helmet and armor were cast off to the side. No wonder he missed the com.

“Jensen-” Simmons didn’t finish. Jensen was already pulling off her helmet, turning on the com to speaker. She placed it on the table next to Simmons screw drivers and dialed up Captain Grif on her arm. The speaker flared to life and gunfire could be heard over the radio.

“I have him here, Captain Grif!” Jensen said and that caused her own Captain to grow deathly still. Simmons put down his screwdriver on his leg and turned towards the radio. It crackled for a few seconds before Captain Grif’s voice could be heard.

“Good hustle, Jensen. Tell Bitter to take lessons from you.” He sounded worse than he did a few seconds ago, almost out of it. At least out of it enough to praise Jensen directly. “Hey, Dick.”

The screwdriver fell of Simmons’s leg. Her Captain turned sheet white. He understood what that meant just as much as the rest of them.

“ _No_ ,” Simmons said under his breath before moving his chair up closer to the table. He reached for Jensen’s arm and turned up the volume dial that was located on her wrist. His grip hurt; for such a lanky guy, he had muscle. “Grif, what’s going on? What happened?”

“Eh, the usual. Just with extra explosives. You can ask Kimball all about it, I just told her what was up while Jensen was searching for your pasty ass.” He coughed and neither Jensen or Simmons missed the wetness in it. “Gotta say, bullets? Don’t hurt quite as bad as the tank, but it’s damn close.”

Simmons eyes grew wide. There was a flash of fear on his face that was quickly replaced by a fearsome scowl. “Grif, you idiot! Go get to cover! Don’t fucking lie there!”

“Oh, I got cover, thanks to Bitters here. Terrible hustle, by the way, I have an extra bullet in my gut-” Grif paused. “Aw shit, I’m joking, stop sobbing. You’re not the one dying here.”

The word dying caused Simmons to lunge for Jensen’s helmet. His metal fingers dug into the plating, cracking the visor. “You’re not dying, asshole. Don’t say that.”

“Tell that to my internal organs.” There was a tone to Grif’s voice that Jensen recognized as fondness. “Look don’t let Sarge speak at the funeral, he’s gonna cock it up. Just let him get smashed or something and hide him in the back corner.”

Simmons gripped the helmet further. His glasses teetered on the tip of his nose before falling entirely off his face. His human eye was almost as red as his robotic one. “Dex-” His voice had a commanding edge to it. 

“You made it worth it, you know. Being in this shithole,” Grif’s voice was fading and Jensen found herself unable to breathe. She shouldn’t be here for this. “Best thing to happen to me in this war. Maybe ever.”

“Dex-” This time it wasn’t a command. It was more like a sob. Simmons was bent over the helmet now, tears beginning to drip from his human eye. “Don’t fucking do this.”

“Don’t got a choice.” Another beat of silence and Jensen was worried the com cut out before it flared back to life. “Take care of him, Jensen.”

She sniffed back tears. Gave a salute to her own helmet. “Yes, sir.”

The com broadcasted a little more static before cutting off. Captain Simmons stared at the helmet blankly and shook it one. Then again. 

“Grif! Grif! Dex!” The visor was shattered completely, the plastic falling inside the helmet. “ _Oh no! You do not get to do this asshole! You do not get to fucking give me a goodbye speech and then fuck off like some Han Solo! You don’t get to_!”

Jensen tried to call Bitters. There was no reply. Either the coms had shut off, or neither of them was in the state to reply. She looked down at her Captain who had now created hand indents in her helmet. Looked at him shake.

She bent down. Wrapped her arms around Simmons shoulders. Hoped he wouldn’t write her up for this.

“I’m so sorry, Captain.”

For a second, she thought he would push her away. But he didn’t. Instead, Simmons clutched her arms and turned towards her, head bent down in a broken sob.

The rest of the Reds and Blues would find them like that ten minutes later. 


End file.
